


Uncertain Futures

by patriciatepes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Advice, Community: intoabar, Crossover, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Heart-to-Heart, Post-Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Pre-Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Worry, possibly bad advice, spoilers for Half-Blood Prince
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:47:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24501070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patriciatepes/pseuds/patriciatepes
Summary: Written for '20 Intoabar.  While retrieving an ingredient that's more than "out of this world," Severus has a conversation with a certain scruffy nerfherder, concerning the future of Ben Solo.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 17
Collections: A Ficathon Goes Into A Bar





	Uncertain Futures

It was never going to be easy. Severus knew that the moment Dumbledore asked of him the multitude of things he had asked. He had gained The Dark Lord's confidence. He had killed Dumbledore. Now, through various vehicles, he was passing the Order information that would have been otherwise impossible for them to know.

He would never know if the good this did would ever outweigh the setbacks to his new position as the Dark Lord's right hand. He would just have to hope. He could assume that things wouldn't end well for him. Of course, assumptions were typically wrong… but he somehow knew that he would be the exception, not the rule.

And there were _a lot_ of setbacks. There were the obvious ones—being branded as the greatest traitor in Wizarding history, the existence of the grim satisfaction that so many had now, having thought they had been "right all along" about him, and many others. But there were other setbacks to his position, ones that even he had not been able to guess. One, in particular, was why he was currently clasping closed a long, black woolen cloak about his shoulders.

Voldemort was more than aware of Severus's talent in the field of potion-making. And while the Dark Lord's potions were nothing to shake a fist at, taking over the Wizarding World one nation at a time was quite time consuming. So he delegated tasks, as any "good" leader might. To Severus, he often gave the most difficult. As such, he had requested a potion that was of his own creation, which required ingredients that were… difficult seemed like such a drastic understatement.

Snape made sure his wand was secure, as well as the empty bottles necessary for holding the ingredient he was obtaining—a few leaves of a very particular plant. The trip was a difficult one, as well as a long one. The potion itself was a fairly quick one to brew, only a few hours, by comparison. How Voldemort had even gained the knowledge—let alone learned how to acquire— of this plant was beyond him. And there were just some things you did not question unless one desired Cruciatus (best case) or death (worst case).

With a deep sigh, he reached out and grabbed the rather inconspicuous looking marble canister that set on a little side table by his sofa. The canister belonged to Voldemort, on loan to him so that he may retrieve this plant. It was a timed portkey. In a few minutes, it would activate, sending him to the highest point on planet Earth—atop Mount Everest. Oxygen was thin up that high, so Severus enacted a Bubble Head charm just moments before the canister portkey activated. Just as it was set, he felt that pull at some place around his navel, and the next moment, he was landing on freezing and crunchy snow. Buried in it was a small flag, left by some muggle who simply thought they were marking their achievement of climbing a really big, snowy rock. But now, it was yet another timed portkey made by Lord Voldemort. This one's trip was a bit more of a distance. But it activated, and he was pulled, and the spinning, pulling feeling was enough to make most nauseous. Severus had taken this trip a few times before, and while it was not pleasant by any stretch of the imagination, he had quite gotten used to the feeling.

He landed on his arse on foreign, alien soil. Literally alien. In fact, he was in a whole other galaxy. He didn't even know the name of it. He had, honestly, never bothered to learn it. But, to his right, was a patch of the plant he sought. Carefully, so as to not to bruise the pink and blue leaves of the plant (it was almost in a tie-dye pattern), he plucked enough to fill three of his empty supply bottles. Once they were corked, he sighed, stretching his back. In the distance, he could hear the bustle of a city. He had ventured into it once or twice. No one seemed to pay him any mind. Granted, the way that wizards dressed and the way that the humans and some of the aliens dressed on this planet were quite similar.

Severus had a good hour before his return portkey would activate. He stood, dusted off his clothing, and re-secured his now full bottles. Trudging along a path he had worn down pretty good by now, he made his way into the town. He found his way into the cantina—which was more like a pub if anyone cared to ask him (and they didn't). This place was fairly familiar to him, as it was the place he usually whiled away his hour. It was often busy enough that he went unnoticed, even if he took his typical seat at the bar, and it didn't seem seedy enough to worry about a bar fight breaking out. He sauntered up to his seat, finding it empty, and waved to the bartender. He instructed the pale green man to give him whatever tasted best and was met with a grin and nod as he turned to make Snape's drink. In a moment, it was slid in front of him, and he grunted his thanks.

Normally, he spent this hour in relative solitude. Being a galaxy away from Voldemort and his war was predictably relaxing, and this was the only good thing about this gut-pulling trip. With a sigh of relief, Snape sipped his neon grin drink, finding it acceptable.

Of course, nothing in his life was normal now. The seat next him was occupied in the next moment, and the grizzled man dressed in browns and whites caught the bartender's attention.

"Solo… Any trouble?" the bartender asked.

The man shook his head, his shaggy brown—but graying—hair swaying. "None. Just here for a drink. No official New Republic business, I swear."

The bartender let out a small "hmm," but turned and began to make the drink anyway. Solo—as the bartender had called his unwanted bar-mate—sighed, putting his head in his hands. Snape arched a brow. Perhaps he should cut his loses… This man looked like a drinker, and it seemed as if he had a good reason to use that talent tonight. The bartender dropped his drink in front of him, but Solo didn't so much as lift his head. Snape had grown up in a rather tumultuous home. Head hung low with a glass of alcohol waiting was often a sign for trouble. He finished his drink fast, resolving to spend the rest of his time on this planet with the portkey until it finally activated.

But, as Snape turned to leave—to slip out of the cantina unnoticed, as he had none of this galaxy's currency with him—Solo's hand reached out, gently grabbing his arm. He fought the urge to jerk it back as Solo looked, a faint look of apology in his eye.

"Sorry. I just… I need an outsider's opinion. Do you mind?"

Snape brow furrowed. Outsider? Had he recognized that something was amiss with Snape being here? The potions master—soon to be Headmaster—was about to leave anyway, when Solo spoke again.

"Have you got kids?"

"No," he said, curtly.

"Oh," Solo said. "Okay. Sorry."

Solo turned back to his drink, still not touching it. Snape turned, ready to stalk away, when he paused. Flashes of faces danced before his mind's eye—the children of Hogwarts, who would be in desperate need of his protection under Voldemort's reign. Even damned Potter's face made an appearance, followed almost instantly by Lily's. He groaned inwardly, retaking his stool.

"I am a caretaker of children… after a fashion," he replied.

Solo looked back at him in surprise. He nodded. "Okay. Well… and I'm Han, by the way… You're…?"

"Severus," he answered.

"Severus. All right. Well, I've got a kid. His name is Ben. Sweet boy. And I love him with all my heart… but… You see, his mother and his uncle… Kriff, I'm not explaining this right."

Only now did Han take a swig from his drink. Newly steeled, he turned back to Snape.

"His uncle is a Jedi, and his mother is strong in the Force. So, naturally, our kid is super strong in the Force. Both Leia and Luke—Ben's mom and his uncle—want him to go train in Luke's temple."

Severus leaned an elbow on the bar. "Forgive me, but… I fail to see a problem thus far."

"Well, I just… I don't want him to go."

Severus blinked. "Why not?"

Han grinned, and Severus wondered if that's what people meant when they described "winning" smiles. He jabbed a finger at the wizard, wagging it as he used his other hand to bring his glass up for another sip.

"See, that's the problem. I don't have a good answer to that. I just… I have a bad feeling about him going. His grandfather, you see… he kind of had a dark past. Well, a mostly dark life. I'm worried that… What if he turns out like him? I can see it in him, you know. Leia and Luke don't… But then, what will happen when they do? What will they have to do? He's my _son_."

Snape glanced over at his own empty glass. Alcohol always reminded him of his childhood, as it was an escape mechanism for both his father and his mother. In his father, it incited a rage, while in his mother it incited a placidity that was so deep it could also be called "comatose." Personally, he had no experience of the type of love and worry that Han was talking about.

But he knew of someone who had known…

"There was a woman I knew once. Her family, her young son particularly, became a target for a very evil man. It forced the family into hiding, but they were betrayed by one of their own—an old friend of the boy's idiotic father. She gave her life for her son. All because she loved him. Now she's gone, and she has no idea that her son is facing this man now, the whole of his world relying on him to win."

Han's brow furrowed. "So… what? I don't get how that relates…"

Severus sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "There was no way for her to know that what she did was the right choice. She did it because she loved him. Now, is sending your son to this temple or whatever the right choice?"

"I mean… he has to be trained…"

"So is it only your fear holding him back?"

"Yeah… I guess it is."

"You'll never know what he could accomplish if you don't take that risk. She—this woman—risked, and gave, her life for her son, trusting that he would grow up making the right choices. All you have to do is risk sending him away for a time, trusting that he'll make the right choices. Surely that's not so much to ask?"

Han nodded as he finished his drink. "You're right. Thanks." He turned to the bartender, motioning to both empty glasses. "I'll cover his too."

Snape forced a small smile. "Thank you. Now, I've got to leave."

"Thanks again, Severus."

Snape left without another word, making his way over to the hidden portkey. By his estimation, he had only about fifteen or so minutes left to wait. He rolled his shoulders, groaning. This jaunt out here to pick up Voldemort's rare ingredient was supposed to be his rare reprieve from his double life, but instead he got landed reliving Lily's death—a much abbreviated version, to be sure. But it had still flooded him with memories.

"Hope his bloody kid was worth it," he muttered as the portkey activated.

He often muttered a similar phrase when he spoke of Potter as well.

**Author's Note:**

> Hilariously, this fic could have very possibly been titled "How Snape Accidentally Created Kylo Ren," lol.


End file.
